My Invisible Escape

The best offense is a good defense.

Presuming that the city was going to let me down today (the sheer amount of parking in my neighborhood is testament to how few people are in town), I escaped it at 8:30 this morning.

Less than an hour's drive put me in Tappahannock for the departure of the Captain Thomas, a Rappahannock River-cruising boat that wends its way upriver to Ingleside Vineyards and back.

But the purpose of the six-hour excursion is not just to taste wine and turn around, but to take in the scenery, both historical, natural and merely colorful.

We passed steamboat docks where boats with shows would pull up and entertain the locals.

We saw long-time river resorts with shacks next to custom-looking houses and dozens of people in the water or lounging on the beach at 10:30 in the morning.

From a distance there was no missing an enormous white house erected by a local lawyer and painted with a distinctive Cavalier-orange roof as a nod to his alma mater.

Eventually we came upon cliffs, something I didn't even know existed on the sea level or lower Northern Neck. Made of clay and sand, their trees were homes to an amazing number of bald eagles.

Once the captain showed us a few, easily recognizable by their white heads, the entire boat was engrossed in being the first to spot another one.

Despite a sunny forecast, the weather was more like what Nick Hornby called "a grey, wet British summer" kind-of-a-day with leaden skies and uneven warmth all around.

We docked at Leedstown, unknown to me, but apparently the site of the signing of the Leedstown Resolves, a precursor to the Declaration of Independence declaring the citizenry of Westmoreland County independent from England.

It's now a campground, albeit one with the brick remains of Bray's Church where the document was signed at its center, and today was full of people enjoying the holiday on the waterfront.

We then piled into school buses for the short jaunt to Ingleside, passing Ingleside Plantation on the way (41 rooms, two occupants, oh my)  where we took a tour of the winery and did a tasting of five wines clearly chosen for their appeal to non-wine drinkers.

For lunch, I'd brought a pretty traditional picnic of fried chicken, watermelon slices and hummus and veggies, which I enjoyed in the courtyard under enormous trees.

Afterwards, I peeked at the museum of local Native American artifacts and stuffed wildlife before finding a shady bench and taking out my book.

Moments later, the winery tour guide walked by and shouted at me, "You're supposed to be drinking wine, not reading!" Pour me some Petit Verdot Reserve instead of Blue Crab Blush and we'll talk, I thought, politely saying, "Don't you worry about me."

On the ride back, the sun finally put in an appearance and a father and daughter argued whether the moon was visible  just behind the clouds; they asked the captain for confirmation.

Suddenly an older woman pointed and gasped, "The man in that boat must be a nudist. He just pulled his pants down  and back up. And he has a beer!" Boating and beer: shocking.

All in all, a very different day than my usual. Almost no conversation, but the history and nature parts satisfied my inner nerd and it's always a pleasure to be on/near the water and smelling the salt air.

But I hadn't realized how invisible I was amongst the couples and groups until on the cruise back when the captain's assistant went around passing out photographs of passengers disembarking before lunch.

There wasn't one for me. No doubt I'd been at the back of someone else's group and went uncaptured.

After all, who goes on an all-day boat cruise by herself? Who else?

Or it could be I don't photograph outside my natural habitat. But now there's no proof that I ever left the city.